


Dresses

by ReallyEleanor



Series: Carson/Mary Stories [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:54:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23977036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReallyEleanor/pseuds/ReallyEleanor
Summary: This story is set less than a year after "Enemy at the Gate."  It's based on "Misunderstanding," the original Carson/Mary story, which was written in 2008 and posted on Wraithbait.com by Luvsciencegeeks.  When I find it, I will post it.This story also features a setting similar toSay Yes to the Dress,an American reality show set in Kleinfield's Bridal Salon in New York.  The names were changed in the story because this isn't its fandom.
Relationships: Carson Beckett/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Carson/Mary Stories [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1728250
Kudos: 2





	Dresses

“Rodney, we’re almost there.” Major Mary Leeds looked over at her ‘copilot,’ Dr. Rodney McKay. 

“That didn’t take as long as I thought it would. Where are we landing?”

“I don’t know how advisable this is, but we’re landing on the grounds. Nowhere in New York City is really deserted if we want to be close in to where we are going.” 

“Captain Kirk found a spot in San Francisco,” Rodney pointed out.

“I’m not Captain Kirk, Rodney,” Mary laughed and changed the subject. “So why are you visiting Dr. Tyson, again? I thought you didn’t like these scientists?”

“I’m growing on them,” Rodney replied.

“You mean they’re starting to see things your way?”

Rodney’s chin raised and he harrumphed. “You could put it that way. They realized I was right about more than just the interdimensional bridge. I think I’ll be able to publish something about Ancient technology, not that it’ll be called Ancient, but now that Atlantis is back, the Air Force doesn’t have to use civilian contractors anymore.”

“Nobel Prize, here you come,” Mary smirked.

In the back seat, Radek Zelenka laughed, and Rodney just gave her a superior look.

“So why did you offer to pilot us, again?” 

“Radek won’t fly with you at the wheel, remember?”

Rodney turned in his seat to glare at Radek. “He could have stayed home.”

“It’s my paper, too, Rodney.” Radek had his arms crossed over his chest and tried to look fierce.

“Didn’t you mention an errand? What are you doing in New York?”

Mary looked at the ring on her left hand and mumbled, “None of your business, Rodney.”

“You’re not wearing a flight suit; you’re wearing your Class A uniform. Sensible shoes. Probably not an assignation, then.”

“Thanks for the backhanded compliment. I look awful and I’d cheat on my fiancée. What part of ‘none of your business’ wasn’t clear, Rodney?” Mary gave the superior look back.

Radek piped up. “What is it they say? Turning around is playing fair? Rodney answered your question, Mary.”  


With a heavy sigh, Mary knew she’d never have a minute’s peace until she answered. As she prepared for landing the jumper, she whispered, “Buying a wedding dress,” running the words together, hoping the two men wouldn’t ask more questions.

“What?” they both asked.

Another sigh. “Alright, already. I’m buying a wedding dress. I hope.”

“Haven’t you left it a little late, Mary? Radek asked. 

“Well,” Mary sighed again. “Yes.”

“How long does it take to buy a dress?” Rodney asked condescendingly.

“It can take six to eight months to get a wedding dress ordered and made, Rodney,” Mary said quietly.

“Six to eight MONTHS?” Rodney yelled. “You’re kidding.”

“No, Rodney, I’m not kidding. They’re custom pieces and quite complicated to make. You don’t generally buy one off the rack and walk out the door.”

“So why did you wait so long?” Rodney asked. “You don’t really have eight DAYS, much less eight months until the wedding.”

“I just didn’t have time. I thought I’d be able to get to it, and I could always wear my mess dress uniform if I didn’t find one.”

Radek sniggered. “Mess dress.”

“That backhanded compliment again?” Mary looked over her shoulder.

“Well, they aren’t called ‘uniforms’ for no reason. They aren’t very sexy.” Radek leaned back and closed his eyes as the jumper hovered over the building. Mary couldn’t see his knuckles, but they were probably white from his grip on the seat.

“I don’t think uniforms were designed to be sexy,” Mary laughed. “You can look now, Radek, we’re on the ground. I’m really not going for ‘sexy’ here, guys. It’s a wedding, not a cocktail party.”

“Look, Mary,” Rodney gestured to make his point. “You’d look good in a paper bag, but you shouldn’t wear your uniform to the wedding. I think Carson would like to see you in something more…feminine, shall we say. You can be sexy and weddingy at the same time.”

“Weddingy? Rodney, what the heck is weddingy?” Mary asked.

“Well… White. Long. Shiny fabric. That thing behind you on the floor. A veil. Weddingy.”

“A train? Is that what you mean by ‘that thing behind you on the floor?’” 

Rodney nodded and snapped his fingers. “Yes, yes. A train.”

“I vote sexy dress,” Radek said. 

“Alright, you two. My appointment isn’t until later today, so when you finish, come to Blumenfeld’s and you can help me pick. I’ll narrow it down, and then you can both vote.”

“I’m not sitting around while you spend hours trying on every dress in the store,” Rodney demanded.

“I hope I can find at least one dress to try on. Leaving it this late really narrows the choice,” Mary explained. “I can do samples, sale rack, and dresses women ordered and didn’t pick up.”

“How do you know that?” Radek asked.

“She’s a girl!” Rodney snarked. “It’s in their DNA. My sister played dress up bride all the time.”

“I never played dress-up bride, Rodney. Not ever.”

“Seriously?” 

“I didn’t think I’d ever get married. Not with my background.” Mary was candid about it, as both men knew about her family history. “It was drummed into me often enough—keep your expectations low. You don’t deserve better.”

“Some people are just idiots,” Rodney sighed. “We’ll come to your appointment after the meeting, as long as you promise to find something weddingy.”

“And sexy,” Radek reminded Mary. She rolled her eyes at him but smiled.

“Just tell the taxi driver you want to go to Blumenfeld’s bridal. He should know where to go. I’ll text you the address just in case.” They all exited the cloaked jumper and separated for their meetings. As the boys walked away, Mary called, “Everyone remember where we parked.” Rodney smacked his forehead with his palm and kept walking.

Mary took a deep breath and decided to hail a cab rather than take the subway. Did she really want to do this? So many people at the wedding would be in uniform. If she wore a dress—a big, white dress—she’d stand out, and she’d spent her life trying to do the opposite of stand out. Yes, she was the bride, and the bride was the star of the show, but the habits of a lifetime were hard to break.  
\--------------------------------------------------  
“Good morning! Welcome to Blumenfeld’s! How may I help you?” The woman behind the front desk looked at the tall woman in the Air Force uniform. 

“I’m Mary Leeds. I have an appointment this afternoon. I’m about an hour early, but I wondered if I could just sit and wait here.”

“Of course. Go right through to the salon and have a seat.”

Mary walked through, and her knees almost gave out. It was so…white. So…look at me! She quickly found a seat and took a deep breath. Or several. She needed a pep talk.

“Are you Mary Leeds?”

Mary almost jumped out of the chair. She stood and shook hands with a woman whose name tag said ‘Lucille.’

“Yes. I’m Mary.”

“Hi, Mary. I’m Lucille. I’ll be your consultant today.” Lucille directed her to a room in the back of the main salon.

“I was so early, I thought I’d have to wait.” 

“We had a cancellation, so I could fit you in. Who have you brought with you today?”

“I’m by myself for now, but two friends may be stopping by if they finish their meeting in time.”

“Okay. I see you’re in the Air Force.”

“Yes. I’m a pilot.”

“A pilot! What kind of planes do you fly?”

“I usually fly personnel transports and cargo planes.”

“What are all your medals?” Lucille stared at Mary’s ‘fruit salad.’ “Is that a Purple Heart?”

“Yes. These are pilot things, and this is marksmanship.” Mary gestured randomly at her medals.

“Were you overseas?”

Was she overseas? Does a different galaxy count? “Yes. I’ve been to Iraq and Afghanistan.” Not a lie—she had been to both. Just not the full truth.

“Who’s your fiancé?”

“Doctor Carson Beckett. Carson is a medical consultant for the Air Force. We met at a forward operating base, about five years ago.” Forward. Yes, Atlantis could be considered a forward operating base.

“When’s the wedding, Mary?”

“Friday.”

“Friday?! As in four days?” Lucille was obviously surprised. And obviously not pleased.

“Yes. I know I’ve left it very late, but I just haven’t been able to shop for a dress. My time isn’t my own.” Mary smiled a rueful smile. She was a full-time pilot and a full-time mom. She’d been a single mom for most of her child’s life.

“Well, that limits us to samples, sale rack, and unclaimed dresses.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that. I know I may not find something today. I just thought I’d give it a try, and then wear my dress uniform if I don’t.” Mary sighed wistfully. Now that she’d actually come into Blumenfeld’s, she decided she wanted a dress after all. Damn Rodney and his weddingy thing!

“What are you looking for in a dress? Let’s head to the fitting room.” Lucille gestured, and Mary got up and walked with her to one of the little numbered rooms. Number 7! Maybe that would be lucky.

“Well, Lucille, I think ‘grand’ might be in order.”

“Grand? Where’s the wedding?”

“I went to the Air Force Academy.” Mary fiddled with her class ring. Ring knockers, they were called. “We’re getting married in the Cadet Chapel. It’s big, seats 1200, but we’ll only have about two or three hundred for the wedding.” Deep breath, look at the floor, get it out quickly. “A two-star general is performing the service, the Chief of Chaplains of the Air Force. The Superintendent of the Academy will be there. Two more stars. A three-star general is walking me down the aisle. And the Secretary of the Air Force will be there for sure.” And Stargate Command, and the IOA, and most of the Atlantis personnel, and a Congressman or two. Rumor had it the president might show up. Jack O’Neill had told her about the throwdown he’d had with Sheppard and Woolsey to give her away. How had this gotten so out of hand? Mary gulped and looked up.

“All those people, and you didn’t buy a dress? How did you skip this part?”

“Well, it’s kind of a long story. I guess the short version is that I wasn’t sure we were going to be able to ever get married. We’ve only been engaged for a few months.” At least this time.

“Are all the men wearing uniforms?”

“No, Carson isn’t in the military. He’s wearing a full-dress kilt with a Prince Charlie jacket. The best man is also wearing a kilt, then a couple of the men in formal morning suits, one in something else, and the other two in a dress uniform.” Rodney, Woolsey, Radek, Ronon, John, Evan.

Those pictures would look interesting. “So back to grand. What does that mean to you?”

“Well, the space is so big, the dress should be big and able to stand up to the architecture of the Cadet Chapel. It’s minimalist architecture, so we’re not doing many flowers or decorations. Other than the food, it’s kind of a minimalist wedding. But formal. Lots of food, and two receptions. And people—lots of people.” Mary paused. “I’m not sure about strapless, and not low cut, as General O’Neill doesn’t need to look down to my navel. I guess ‘grand’ is a princess ball gown or at least a train. And I was informed by the best man that I need something white, long, and shiny, with a train and a veil.” Mary ticked Rodney’s requirements off on her fingers. “My man of honor wants something sexy, but I don’t think too sexy is appropriate for the circumstances.” 

Mary smiled for the first time, and really met Lucille’s eyes. “They’ve both been rooting for us since we first got together. They want me to look like a traditional bride.”

Lucille had been doing this job long enough to know there was more to the story than the bare facts Mary had given her. She’d just need to tease it out.

“What does your family think?”

Mary looked at the floor again. “I have no family.” A deep breath. “I never knew my father, and my mother died when I was in second grade.” Mary had come home from school one day to find her mother dead of an overdose with a needle in her vein. “I was in foster care from then until I joined the Air Force. Carson has a large family.” True, but would they be at the wedding? She didn’t know if he’d decided to tell them he was actually alive.

“What are the bridesmaids wearing?” 

“There are no bridesmaids. I have a man of honor and two bridesmen. There will be six attendants total.” Rodney, Ronon and Evan Lorne for Carson; Radek, John and Richard Woolsey for her.

“Are you wearing the wedding gown for both receptions?”

“Just for the first one. We’re getting married at 11:00 and then having a luncheon reception immediately after. Later in the evening, we’re having a ceilidh.”

“What’s a ceilidh?”

“It’s a Scots party. Music, dancing, drinking. It will be less formal than the wedding. I have no idea what to wear for that, either.” An idea suddenly struck Mary and she sat up straight in her chair. “Maybe I could get a second dress for that.”

“That would up the budget, of course. What were you thinking of spending?”

Here, Mary was confident. “Well, I would like to spend only a little,” Mary stressed the ‘like’ part, “maybe a couple of thousand, but at this point, I’m prepared to go all in.” She leaned forward. “Lucille, I have always been frugal with my money. Very frugal. I watch the show,” Mary’s eyes gleamed, “and I’m just going to say you don’t have anything here I can’t afford.”

Lucille laughed. “Have you tried on any dresses?”

“I’ve never worn a formal dress other than my mess dress uniform.”

“No prom dress?” 

“Foster kids don’t go to prom. I’ve never been a bridesmaid, never needed anything but a uniform.”

“Did you bring any pictures?” 

“I have some in my tablet.” Mary pulled out her tablet and opened her wedding folder. She and Lucille started flipping through the folder. “Mostly I liked some ball gowns with cathedral trains. Some lace, some satin, some strapless. I found a jacket with a train on the Temperley page. I saw a mermaid with a long train on eBay. A lot of the dresses I liked were from China and online. I was really reluctant to buy something that was probably from a sweatshop and that I didn’t try on.”

Mary took a deep breath. “I went to one of those chain bridal stores. I got as far as walking in the door, and the clerk looked me up and down and I turned and left. She looked so judgmental.” Mary remembered that feeling—she’d felt less scared in combat against the Wraith taking fire in a jumper.

“You do like ball gowns!” Lucille pointed at one that looked lavender in the picture; floral embroidered satin with a long train. “You know this one would be about $50,000.”

“I’m okay with that.” Mary shifted in her seat. “Carson is the most amazing person I’ve ever met, and I really want to look amazing for him. I think I need to be grand.”

“Okay, Mary. I think I have what I need to start shopping. What about trying on a selection to narrow down style and shape, and then go from there?”

“That sounds great.”

“You get changed and I’ll be back.” Lucille gestured to a robe hanging behind the door as she went out.  
\-------------------------------------------

The reception dress first. Lucille looked up ceilidh on her phone and found out it really was a big party with a band, dancing, and drinking. Vintage, maybe? Fun and flirty? But a full skirt and sleeves so it didn't fall off during the dancing. It would depend on what was available.

The best available dress was a 1950s vintage-inspired dress with a very fitted lace bodice, low cut, off the shoulder, and long sleeves. It had a full skirt with crinoline, but the hemline would be well above the knee on Mary. Short and low cut, it wasn’t a dress for a church, and with a crinoline and sleeves, wasn’t right for a beach or casual venue.

Mary looked at herself in the mirror. The dress seemed a little small in the bust, and it was definitely too short. But it sure fit Radek’s request for sexy.

“Mary, you’re blushing!” 

“I’ve never worn anything this low cut. Is it too small? It seems like a lot of cleavage. And my running shorts are longer than this!”

“Well, you have a gorgeous figure with long legs, and you look amazing!" Lucille looked at Mary’s chest. "It’s not too small. It’s designed to push up your girls.”

There was a knock on the door. Both women responded, and the door opened to admit Steven. “Hi, Beautiful!” His trademark phrase was spoken as he looked slightly down, and then he looked up at Mary. Steven’s mouth dropped. Wow!

“You look amazing!” Steven said. 

“I think so, too, Steven,” Lucille agreed. “She has Tina Turner legs in this dress. Mary blushed again and smiled. 

Lucille asked, “So Mary, are you saying yes to this reception dress?” 

“Yes!” Mary answered with a smile. 

\-------------------------------------------

Lucille stood in the sale room again and looked at the racks. Where to start? There was a very fitted mermaid style with a train in lace and tulle, but it was very low cut. There was a ball gown with a train, but it looked more ‘Southern Belle’ than Air Force officer. How had that even gotten here? There was something in the back of Lucille’s mind that might work, but she’d have to get permission first.

\-------------------------------------------

Mary sat on the spindly chair and looked at a magazine. Tiny favors. Table decorations. Gift boxes for cake pieces or cookies or Jordan almonds. That’s all the bridal magazines seemed to have, ways to spend money on little things that just didn’t seem important when you’d actually buried your fiancé once.

A knock on the door heralded Lucille’s return. “I brought Steven back with me!” she called as she entered carrying some gowns. 

“Mary, we’ve brought you several things to look at. There are three different shapes, with lace, satin, organza, and tulle, and some different waistlines. Cap sleeves, sweetheart strapless, and some spaghetti straps. Which one would you like to try on first?”

Mary looked at the dresses hanging on the wall. “I think I’d like to start with the mermaid, and either eliminate it as a shape or change direction.”

“Good idea. I’ll let Lucille help you with the dress, and I’ll be back to see how you are doing.” 

The first dress was a mermaid, fit and flare, with a seriously dropped waist and all-over sequined lace. It was sleeveless and slightly low cut, with a short train. 

Mary looked in the mirror. “No. Just no.” It looked too short, it felt too casual, and she thought the sequins would be visible from space if the light hit it just right.

There was no one to go out and model for, so Mary stayed in the room, tried on, and vetoed a less dramatic mermaid, an A-line with a blingy top and a chiffon skirt, and a drop waist ball gown with crystal embroidery. Too form fitting in the wrong place, too ethereal, too blingy.

More gowns were brought in and tried on without success. Too prom dress, too young, too matronly, too sexy. Mary stared straight ahead, not really seeing anything anymore.

Lucille noticed how quiet her client had become. As she looked at Mary’s reflection, she saw a tear fall.

“What’s wrong, Mary?” Lucille put an arm around Mary’s shoulders, and Mary started crying in earnest. 

“I should have known better. I should never have come here.” Mary covered her face with her hands. Lucille led her to the chairs.

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

“I’m not going to find a dress. I don’t deserve it. And if I do find one, something will happen to Carson, and we’ll be canceling the wedding again, and I just can’t do this.” Mary cried quietly.

Finally, Lucille felt they were getting to the heart of the problem.

“You’ve canceled the wedding before? What happened?”

Mary dried her eyes with a tissue. “Not long after Carson and I met, we had a brief affair. We had a misunderstanding and broke up. I had a miscarriage a few months later. We ended up figuring things out and got back together.” 

Mary took a deep breath and continued with what they had come to call The Cover Story. “Carson was in a village assisting the local population and a terrorist set off a suicide bomb. We thought Carson had been killed. We had a funeral, and when our commanding officer went through his things, he found an engagement ring. Carson was going to ask me to marry him, but I ended up burying him instead.”

Lucille looked up and saw Steven standing in the doorway, a horrified expression on his face.

“You buried your fiancé?” Lucille was stunned. 

“Yes. I met his family for the first time at his funeral.” Mary took a deep breath. Steven came in and sat down. 

“A year later, a group of special forces found Carson in a different village. He’d been taken hostage during the battle and had been forced to work as a doctor for the enemy. Right after he came back, he asked me to marry him. But then before we could even tell anyone, he got sick, a disease he’d picked up in captivity, and he spent two months in a coma.”

“Two months in a coma?!” After he’d been declared dead? Lucille and Steven just looked at each other. How much had this poor woman been through?

“While he was still in the hospital, I got transfer orders. I didn’t want to leave him, but orders are orders. You either go where you are ordered, or you go to Leavenworth. I was pregnant again.” Mary looked down. “And our son was six months old before Carson saw him. Every time we’ve tried to take a step forward, something bad happens. I’m so afraid if I buy this dress, something bad will happen. I’ll never find a dress to make me the bride Carson deserves. I should just quit and go home.” She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.

“You stop this right now!” Steven’s voice was firm. He took Mary’s hands in his. “Every woman deserves to be a beautiful bride on her wedding day. You deserve this for yourself, not just for Carson. We found you a great reception dress, and now we’re going to find you the perfect wedding dress.”

“Mary, Steven and I have one more dress we want you to try on. I haven’t brought it in because it’s kind of special to the designer.” They hadn’t gotten permission to sell this dress yet, and now they really didn’t want to disappoint Mary. “You wait here, and Steven and I are going to go talk to Linden, the sales director.”  
\-----------------------------  
“She buried her fiancé?” Linden was incredulous. “She has a Purple Heart, so she’s been in combat, and her fiancé is back from the dead! Now that’s one I’ve never heard. Let’s go see Edward, and we’ll see if we can sell the dress.”

\-------------------------------  
Lucille had taken a quick snapshot of Mary’s uniform jacket and took out the picture. She zoomed in on the medals. Linden and Steven were looking them up, while Edward, the owner was on the phone to the designer. 

“She’s a decorated veteran, and tall and gorgeous. I think the dress will fit perfectly,” Edward said into the phone. Pause. “She says she can afford it, but I’d like to sell it at cost.” Pause. “I have this feeling that this is the right dress for her, and heaven knows she needs a break!” Pause.

Edward turned in his chair. “Steven, what are those medals?” 

“We think they’re for bravery in combat,” Steven answered.

“You heard that?” Pause. “Okay. We’ll pull it out. We’re agreed on the price, then?” Pause. “Terrific!” 

Edward turned in his chair again. “You heard? Pull the dress! She’s agreed to sell it if it works for Mary.” A trio of smiling faces cheered.

\----------------------------------  
“Dr. Rodney McKay. I’m here to see one of your appointments, Mary Leeds.” Rodney McKay stepped up to the reception desk and started drumming his fingers.

“She said to expect you...” The receptionist looked past Dr. McKay and the other man and saw Dr. Neil DeGrasse Tyson. “Go right through the arch and have a seat. I’ll tell Lucille you’re here.

The men walked off to the main salon. The receptionist picked up her phone. No luck with Lucille. No luck with Linden. Jane picked up. “Jane, the Air Force lady trying on dresses with Lucille? Her friends are here. And one is Neil DeGrasse Tyson, the planetarium guy!”

“I’ll be right out.” Jane's eyebrows were raised to her hairline.

\------------------------------------  
“Boze!” Radek exclaimed. He headed for an empty sofa and sat clumsily, like his knees had given out.

“You can say that again.” Rodney followed.

Radek, Rodney, and Neil looked around at the sea of white, frothy dresses.

“Why did we say we would do this?” Rodney asked.

“Because Mary has been kind to us, and without us, she would be all alone,” Radek answered.

“Yes. Well, even friendship has limits, and this may be past it.”  


“Suck it up, Buttercup,” Neil countered.

“At least you have the option to leave. She’d never know you were here.”

“I may have to do this someday. I thought I’d practice so it’s not such a shock to the system. Besides, Mary was kind to my kids, and that goes a long way.”

“Dr. Tyson?” Jane asked and held out her hand to shake. “Are you here for Mary Leeds?” She looked at the other two men.

All three men stood. “Yes.” Rodney lifted his chin. “She said she’d show us a dress and then we’d leave.” He sounded as uncomfortable as he felt.

“I’ll go tell her you’re here.”

\-----------------------------------------  
Jane met Lucille and Steven in the hall, the two each carrying an end of an enormous garment bag toward dressing room number 7. “Lucille!” Jane stopped them. “Her friends are here! One is Neil DeGrasse Tyson! Did she say he was coming?”

“No, she just said two friends.”

“There’s three here. The designer agreed to sell it?” Jane looked at the dress.

“Yes! I think it’s going to be perfect!”

\----------------------------------------  
The tall man with shaggy hair whipped off his aviator sunglasses. The receptionist stopped with her mouth agape and looked behind him. A taller man with dreadlocks stood behind him, almost like a bodyguard.

“I’m looking for Dr. Rodney McKay. He’s supposed to be here with Major Mary Leeds.”

“Yes. They’re all here. Go right through to the salon. You should see them.”

‘Who was this woman?’ the receptionist thought. Five men showed up, no girlfriends, to help one woman choose a wedding dress. That was something new.

\---------------------------------------  
Lucille knocked on door number seven. “Okay, Mary,” she said, leading Steven behind her, “we have what we think is your dress.” When they were both in the room, they hung the dress on the wall. Mary’s eyes grew wide as she took it in. This could be the one… 

\-------------------------------------------  
“Rodney,” John said.

“What are you doing here?” Rodney asked back.

“Looking for you. What the hell are you doing here?”

Radek piped up. “Mary is shopping for a wedding dress and she asked us to give an opinion. The salesclerk said she is putting on the dress now.”

“She didn’t have a wedding dress?” John was stunned. “The wedding’s Friday!” His ex-wife had her dress started a year in advance. 

\----------------------------  


“This dress was a custom piece for a friend of the designer. The groom was in an accident and the wedding never happened. It hasn’t been tried on since the original bride, as it’s not to everyone’s taste. Sara doesn’t think it would alter well, and it’s for someone tall,” Lucille explained. “Most brides today are looking for strapless, sweetheart necklines, bling. This is very plain. It’s also on the heavy side, and a bit expensive.”

Not white—ivory, and real silk. Heavy, dupioni silk. Long sleeves. Bateau neckline. A ball gown with a structured crinoline and a train. No lace, no sequins, no crystals, no embroidery. Almost severe in appearance. Beautifully cut, beautifully draped. Mary looked at the dress out of the bag, hanging on the rail, turned, and opened her briefcase. She withdrew a tartan sash. “Perfect!” Lucille said. Steven left so Mary could change.

Standing in the doorway from the fitting rooms into the salon, he took in the five men on the couch and chairs. All five looked very uncomfortable. All five looked very imposing. He went up to introduce himself. “Hi, I’m Steven,” he introduced himself, and they all shook hands.

“I have to tell you, it’s been difficult to find a dress for Mary, given the time frame. I think it might have been difficult even if she’d had more time. She was very discouraged,” he gave the men a strong look, “but we found something. And I hope you know she’ll be heartbroken if you don’t like it.”

He stood aside, and Mary was in the doorway. The tartan sash was around her waist, breaking the severity of the dress. The length was perfect, and the ivory color made her skin glow. Lucille had put up her hair and added a small, jeweled hair clip. She stepped gracefully to the podium and looked out at her audience…

…Who were just staring. No expression. Not a smile, just five blank faces. Yes, they kept their emotions close, it was important for their safety and survival. Two seconds, ten seconds, a minute. Nothing.

That was it, then. Steven watched as her expression changed from hopeful to hopeless. She’d go take this off and forget about a dress. It just wasn’t meant to be. She turned and stepped toward the fitting rooms.

“Stop, stop, stop!” Rodney called. She turned back. He didn’t have any other words and just kept staring.  


“Mary, you look amazing,” Radek said. “We are all just stunned speechless. Even Rodney.”

“Doc’s a lucky man,” Ronon added. 

Steven handed her a tissue and she wiped her eyes. “I was afraid you didn’t like it.”

“We love it,” John put in. “It’s perfect.”

“I’m glad I had this practice session.” Dr. Tyson wiped his own eyes. “But I don’t think I’m going to make it when it’s my daughter.”  
\-----------------------

Mary was nervous. It didn’t matter that 250 people (more or less) were there. It didn’t matter that Jack O’Neil was waiting to escort her down the aisle. The only thing that mattered: was Carson there? She hadn’t seen him, and she didn’t know if he was there. Anyone who could tell her was waiting with him and the minister where she couldn't see them. 

“What’s up?” Jack asked. She was more nervous than he’d ever seen her. Before she met Carson, her reputation had been stoic in the extreme. Ice in her veins.

Mary could hardly speak; her throat was so tight. “Is he here?”

Jack looked at her. “Yes. He’s here. I saw him earlier.” She didn’t look convinced. “Relax, Mary. It’ll be fine.”

“Easy for you to say. You haven’t been trying to do this for what, five years now?” 

Jack smiled. “Well, some things have worked out.” He looked down at Callan. 

Callan was in a kilt, just like his father. He had Carson’s dark hair and blue eyes, and all his father’s charm. Their son. Three years old. The ring bearer, he had the pillow in one hand, beating it against his knees. Good thing the rings were tied on.

The organ started the opening notes of Purcell’s _Trumpet Voluntary._ This was their cue. Carson and the other men would come out with the minister. 

“Do you see him?” Mary asked.

“See who?” Jack asked.

She punched him.

“Yes, he’s there. They’re all there. Now relax, and let’s go.”

“Okay, Callan. You run to Da now.” They had told him to run, knowing it was pointless trying to get him to walk. Callan had two speeds—high and off. Carson caught him, tossed him up, and pulled him in for a hug. When Callan was back on the ground, it was Mary’s turn.

“You’re sure about this?” Jack asked.

She punched him again. 

She took Jack’s arm. A final pouf of the train. Flowers cascading from her left hand.

She walked out to meet their future.


End file.
